


The Truth is a Beautiful Thing

by spirantization



Series: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Background Case, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 03, Religious Discussion, Step-Satan, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirantization/pseuds/spirantization
Summary: Chloe contemplates the bigger picture; there is no end to her questions and there are no easy answers to be found.[Post-Season 3.]





	The Truth is a Beautiful Thing

**Author's Note:**

> i. Thank you everyone who has read, commented, kudos'd, bookmarked, and rec'd this series! I appreciate all of you.
> 
> ii. The title comes from London Grammar.

“Well, this is adorable,” said Ella, looking over Chloe’s shoulder into the conference room. She reached out for the handle and pushed the door open; Chloe twisted and looked to see what she was so intent on.

It was Lucifer braiding Trixie’s hair. Her daughter looked absolutely delighted; Lucifer was scowling.

Ella was grinning. “How do you know how to braid hair?” she called out to him.

He didn’t look up at them, but his fingers twitched reflexively. “I have sisters,” Lucifer said grudgingly.

“Aw!” said Ella, snapping a picture on her phone.

“You do?” said Trixie, nearly bouncing with excitement. “Can they come visit?”

“Sit still or the deal’s off,” said Lucifer, his voice biting but his fingers still careful. Trixie quieted, sitting ramrod straight and grinning. “And no, they can’t. They’re horrible little brats. Always climbing all over me and following me everywhere I go. No doubt you’d get along well,” he added to Trixie, tugging gently on her hair. She giggled.

His voice was acerbic, but Chloe wasn’t fooled. Nobody could pull off a braid that well without considerable practice; he would undoubtedly deny it, but he’d clearly spent a significant amount of time braiding his sisters’ hair. She had a sudden image of angels wearing white robes, sitting on clouds, and Lucifer being just as delicate and precise then as he was being now, just without the harsh sheen of disdain.

She had no idea what Heaven looked like or what angels wore, so that was all probably very wrong, but still. She could pretend that was how it was.

“Done,” Lucifer announced, snapping an elastic around the end of the braid.

Trixie hopped off the chair. “Thanks, Lucifer!” she said. She reached into her bag and gave him the little ziplock bag with two cookies that Chloe had packed into her lunch, then threw her arms around him. Lucifer’s entire body locked up like a plank of wood.

“Detective, control your offspring!” he scolded. Trixie skipped off to throw herself down at Chloe’s desk. Lucifer shook out his shoulders, made a face, and opened up the bag.

“Did she pay you in cookies to braid her hair?” Chloe asked.

“Obviously,” said Lucifer, his mouth full. “I wasn’t going to do it for _free_.”

“Can you do my hair next?” Ella asked.

Lucifer didn’t even bother to respond, but got up and left the room, stalking off towards the coffee machine.

“Maybe later!” Ella called out after him. She grinned at Chloe. “He’ll do it,” she said. “He listened to me talk about blood analysis for ages the other day and didn’t complain once. He’ll be braiding my hair and giving me makeup tips any day now. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one,” Chloe said. “He tends to object to anything that could be perceived as wholesome.”

“That reminds me — we’re still good for Sunday?” asked Ella.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” promised Chloe.

* * *

 

“I’m a little surprised you asked to come to church with me,” said Ella. “You haven’t really shown much interest in it before.”

The two of them were sitting in a pew towards the front. People shuffled in behind them in small clumps, spreading out across the church.

“I’ve never really been a believer,” Chloe said. “My parents never took me to church. Dan grew up Catholic, so we went to a few masses and baptized Trixie, but it was mostly for his family. I don’t think he’s been to church in years. That’s about the extent of my religious background.”

“So what brings you here?” asked Ella. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I’m happy to share this with you, and if you decided to come to church with me every Sunday I’d be thrilled. But why now?”

No matter how much she cared for Ella, she couldn’t tell her that it was because she’d been given irrefutable proof of the divine. She couldn’t tell her that the devil himself had slowly been becoming a permanent fixture in her life for the past three years. For better or for worse, this was a part of her life now; it was something she still didn’t get, not fully.

“I guess I want to understand,” Chloe said slowly. “It’s a really big part of — of many people’s lives.” She chewed her lip. “Is that answer okay?”

“Any answer is okay,” said Ella. “When it comes to faith, I don’t think there’s a right or wrong answer. You gotta go with what feels right for you. Question everything.”

“So be a detective,” Chloe said. “Just investigate… religion.”

“Yeah!” Ella grinned, then grew serious again. “Then you can decide for yourself what you want to believe in. I think with any religion, there’s a point where you have to look at it and evaluate for yourself whether you want to accept it or reject it. You don’t have to follow everything without question, you know? My family is Catholic and I went to Catholic school, so my life has been shaped by that. But ultimately I had to sit down and decide for myself that this was something that I wanted to continue to believe in. And even now I still question some things, why the Big Guy does what He does.”

“I never really thought of it like that,” said Chloe. She could probably fall down this rabbit hole for a while and never really come up with any solid answers.

“And it’s okay if you decide that this isn’t right for you,” Ella continued. “It’s like — medicine. Not all medicine is right for everyone. Not every religion is right for everyone.” She shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“Not just to jump, and have faith?”

“Faith comes after you’ve analyzed it for yourself,” said Ella. “Questioning doesn’t make me any less of a believer; if anything, questioning makes my faith stronger. So maybe that’s what you gotta do.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” said Chloe, looking up at the stain glass window near her. It depicted an angel, with wings and blue robes, a golden halo around his head. Lucifer would make such a fuss about the fashion choices alone if he were here. “I’m willing to be… open.”

“Then be open,” said Ella. They sat for a moment in silence. “You’re way more receptive than Lucifer was when I brought him here,” she added.

Chloe coughed. “You brought Lucifer here?”

Ella grinned. “I know, right? Bringing the devil to a church?” She laughed, and Chloe followed suit just a touch maniacally.

Chloe felt a sudden and rousing bout of sympathy for Linda, who knew the truth about Lucifer before she did and had to keep quiet about it while enduring these types of comments from everyone around her. She could only imagine how Lucifer felt, telling the truth about himself and countered with people who made a joke of it or thought he was insane.

“Anyway,” Ella continued. “He complained the whole time and refused to sing. He’d make a terrible angel.”

“Wouldn’t that make him a good devil?” Chloe said.

“I guess you’re right about that,” said Ella. She gave a whole body shudder. “If angels are real, I do _not_ want to meet one.”

“Why not?” said Chloe, frowning.

“They’re scary!” Ella said. “Every time they show up in the Bible, they have to tell people not to be afraid. They’re soldiers of God, not cute little fat babies with wings. More like they’ve got six wings and four faces. Hard pass.”

That didn’t sound like either of the angels Chloe knew, but there was still so much that she was in the dark about. For every question that was answered, it was as if two new questions appeared, like some sort of celestial hydra.

“So, what about —” Chloe began.

“Hold that thought, it’s starting,” Ella whispered, rising to her feet. Chloe followed behind her, mimicking her motions until they settled down in the pew once again as the priest took to the pulpit.

She wasn’t totally new to this; she’d gone to church a few times to appease Dan’s parents after they got married, to smooth over the fact that their wedding had been officiated at the courthouse and they’d just had a reception afterwards, and of course Trixie’s baptism. But this time felt stark and new, because she wasn’t just sitting through something she had no connection to for the sake of her in-laws. She was absolutely one hundred percent sure that God existed; she knew an angel and she saw the devil just about every day. Not only did she see him, she wanted to see _more_ of him, wanted to watch him cook dinner and share a bottle of wine together, wanted to tuck herself against him after a long day, wanted to —

Actually, it probably wasn’t a good idea to think about those sorts of things in a church during the middle of a service. Lucifer had said that there wasn’t an automatic sentencing system for going to Hell, but having — what was a Catholic way of putting it? — impure thoughts about the devil while in a church probably wouldn’t get her an automatic pass into Heaven, either.

Or maybe it would be fine. Lucifer was God’s son, after all, and He had put her in Lucifer’s path. Would he approve of them being _together_ together?

He was God; He probably wasn’t concerned with the minutiae of two people’s relationship. Right?

“Of course, the devil does not reside in Hell,” the priest was saying, jolting Chloe back to the present. She looked around, almost expecting everyone to be staring at her, as if her thoughts had been projected on a screen for everyone to see. “He wanders the Earth, offering temptation to all those he crosses.”

Ella leaned in close. “I can’t help thinking about Lucifer whenever he talks about the devil,” she whispered. “It’s kinda funny, right?”

Chloe made a strangled noise in her throat that she hoped would be mistaken for a laugh and determinedly did not look over at Ella.

“He is the Adversary,” the priest continued. “He promises wealth and luxury, and all he asks in return is that you turn away from God.”

The priest continued, but Chloe wasn’t able to follow what he was saying.

She’d been on the receiving end of more than her fair share of gossip; being a teenage actress who’d gone topless for her debut role had sparked quite a lot of tabloid interest. She’d read headline after headline about herself that wasn’t true, and it had hurt her to think that there were people out there who believed them, who walked through life accepting all of the horrible things people had said about her without knowing a thing about her.

She was just one woman who’d had a very short time in the limelight and had desperately tried to keep out of it ever since. She couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she’d been bombarded with it constantly for years.

Scratch that, she could imagine it. She’d probably be a lot like Lucifer.

He’d been telling the truth about himself to anyone and everyone since — well, forever, basically. Was he trying to refute all of the horrible things people said about him, one person at a time? He was staring down a flood armed with nothing but determination.

Lucifer had never promised her wealth and luxury, had never asked her to turn away from God — in fact, he mostly seemed interested in her believing him when he told her the truth. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t a monster, to take his word for it over everyone else’s.

What did it make her if that was what she wanted too?

There came the many-headed beast made of questions again, and there were no answers to be found.

* * *

Chloe walked into Lux hours later, scanning the room for any sign of Lucifer. The place was in full swing, packed with people dancing and drinking, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. There was a familiar figure sitting at the bar, however.

“Hello, Amenadiel,” she said.

“Chloe!” he greeted, turning his body towards her and motioning for her to sit down. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” she said, resting a hand on the stool but not accepting quite yet. “Have you seen Lucifer? I need him at a crime scene.”

“Oh, he’s upstairs preening,” Amenadiel said. 

“Of course he is,” she said, sliding into place next to him.

“He’s always been hopelessly vain,” he said. “I offered to help, but he got all prickly about it and threw me out. He should be down soon.”

“You offered… to help him get ready?” she asked. She knew angels were different from humans, but she couldn’t imagine wanting her brother to put on her makeup for her.

“Ah, no,” he said, setting down his drink. “I offered to help him _preen_. Literally.” He made a vague gesture with his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” she said, cottoning on. She suddenly had a very strong desire to card her fingers through Lucifer’s feathers. They would probably feel amazing to touch; they looked so _soft_ and _fluffy_.

Was is crazy to want to touch angel wings? They were _angel wings_ , after all. Chloe had only gone to church with deliberate intent the once, so she was pretty new to this whole thing, but that was probably sacrilegious or something; too close to divinity for mortal, human hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Amenadiel said, breaking across her daydream about petting Lucifer’s wings. She started and shifted her focus back to him. This probably wasn’t the time or place, but — 

“I’ve had a lot to think about recently,” Chloe said. She hesitated, then decided to just go for it. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about Malcolm.”

His composure switched from open and friendly to diminutive, shrinking in on himself as though thoroughly chastened. “Malcolm never should have woken up from his coma,” said Amenadiel. “I’m the one responsible for all the evils he committed.”

“I haven’t forgotten all the things that he did,” said Chloe. “He took my _daughter_. I can’t ever forget that.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” said Amenadiel. “That never would have happened had it not been for me, had I not brought his soul back from Hell.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “If Lucifer had gone back to Hell the way you wanted him to, you never would have brought Malcolm back from his coma. But he never would have been in a coma if Dan hadn’t shot him. And Dan never would have shot him if I hadn’t followed Malcolm to Palmetto Street. And I never would have followed him if he hadn’t been a corrupt cop and I hadn’t been reckless enough to go after him on my own.”

“What’s your point?” said Amenadiel.

“My point is — it’s more complicated than just saying you’re responsible for everything bad that happened with him,” said Chloe. “And Malcolm was ultimately responsible for his own actions.”

“He wouldn’t have had the chance if I hadn’t brought him back,” he insisted.

“That’s true,” she acquiesced. “But it’s more like — okay, I think of it like this. It’s like you lent Malcolm your car. Then he drives it around and kills a bunch of people with it. I think everyone would agree that it wasn’t a great idea that you lent him the car, but no jury is going to find you guilty of murder, because at the end of the day, you weren’t the one behind the wheel. At most, you might be tried as an accessory to murder, if you knew what he was planning on doing.”

That definitely sounded better in her head. Out loud it just sounded ridiculous.

“So,” he said slowly. “Pulling souls out of Hell is like… giving them a new car?”

She waved her hand at him. “I’m not good at analogies,” she said. “I’m a cop, not a philosopher. I mean, Charlotte Richards also went to Hell and _she_ didn’t turn into a murderous psychopath.”

“Just the opposite,” he said, smiling wistfully. “She worked so hard to be better. To be good.”

“She was great,” said Chloe. She looked down at her hands. “I miss her. I didn’t know her that well for that long, but — I miss her.”

“She’s happy, you know,” Amenadiel said. “I made sure she was okay before I came back.”

She traced patterns on the bar top, concentrating her gaze on the dark wood. “I’m glad.”

“So you’re forgiving everyone now?”

She shrugged and met his eyes once again. “I’m trying to look at the bigger picture,” said Chloe. “I’m finally understanding what has been going on in my life, and I’m finding out that it’s bigger than just me. Like, cosmically big. I’m trying to keep things in perspective.”

“I think you’re being very brave,” said Amenadiel. He smiled warmly at her, and she couldn’t help but feel better. He was so nice. Were all angels this nice?

“Detective!” Lucifer greeted, sidling up to the bar beside her. “What a pleasant surprise. Talking to Amenadiel? I’m surprised you’re not napping on the bar.”

“Good to see you too, Luci,” Amenadiel said, turning back to his drink.

“He’s been keeping me company while I waited for you to come down,” she said, but he wasn’t listening.

“I can’t believe you,” Lucifer was saying to his brother. “Of all the things —”

“Stop trying to control me, brother,” Amenadiel said. “It won’t end well for you.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Lucifer said. “So just give it up and I won’t have to take it from you by force.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Chloe. “There’s no need to start a fight over, um —” She looked between the two of them for some help.

“That monstrosity he’s holding,” Lucifer said, nodding to his brother. She looked over and saw nothing save for a martini glass, the same thing he’d been drinking since she sat down. “I can’t believe he’s waving that thing in my direction.”

It looked innocuous, but maybe not. “Is it holy water or something?” she asked, her voice low, eyes darting to see if anyone was within earshot.

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer said, looking at her strangely. “It’s a cosmopolitan. Holy water, really?”

“You were freaking out,” she said defensively. “I thought it was something dangerous.”

“It is!” Lucifer insisted, pointing an accusing finger. “He’s going to make himself sick drinking those things.”

“I really like cosmos,” Amenadiel told her mournfully. “But Luci gets mad at me whenever I drink them.”

“They’re just sugar,” Lucifer said. “You should never mix sugar and alcohol. You’ll give yourself a terrible hangover and then you’ll be insufferable all day.”

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Amenadiel said, clutching the cosmopolitan with two hands. “I don’t get hangovers.”

“Sure you don’t,” Lucifer said. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re a miserable lump tomorrow and you won’t give me a moment of peace. Just give it here —” He lunged forward. Chloe leaned back; she didn’t want to get in the middle of two wrestling angels. They scuffled briefly over the glass, only succeeding in dumping it on Amenadiel.

“Luci!” he complained. “You ruined my shirt!”

“You’re welcome,” said Lucifer. “I mean, peach? What were you thinking?” He turned his back firmly on his brother and smiled winningly at Chloe, as if he hadn’t just pitched a fit over a drink. “So, what brings you here, Detective? Business or pleasure?”

“Business, unfortunately,” she said. “I mean, uh,” she added, feeling heat crawl up her neck and flood her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “We have a new case. There’s a dead body we have to go look at.”

“By all means,” he said. Turning back briefly to Amenadiel, he added, “Don’t forget what I said. If you keep drinking all that sugar you’ll be a mess and I won’t feel sorry for you at all.”

Chloe made a ‘what can you do?’ face at Amenadiel, who smiled at her knowingly. She tugged on Lucifer’s sleeve and led him out of the club.

Their dead body had once been Ricky Garcia, a partner at an architectural firm, found in his home, stabbed in the back with a butcher knife.

“No sign of struggle,” Ella said. “He just turned around and boom! Knife to the back. What a way to go.”

“Looks like a weapon of convenience,” Chloe said, eyeing the magnetic strip of knives with one conspicuously missing. “Points to a crime of passion. No sign of struggle, no broken locks, so he definitely knew his attacker. Did we get a hit off any prints on the murder weapon?”

“No prints,” said Ella. “It’s totally clean.”

“So someone either wore gloves or wiped the handle afterwards,” Chloe said.

“Doesn’t really fit with the whole crime of passion idea, does it?” Lucifer said.

“Definitely yes to both of that,” said Ella. “We found a pair of bloody latex gloves in the building’s garbage. It could also be a first-time killer’s sloppy attempt to dispose of evidence. I’ll get them back to the lab and confirm if the blood is Ricky’s. And then I’ll see if we can pull up any DNA from inside the gloves themselves.”

“Great work, Ella,” Chloe said. “Dan’s canvassing the building now, so Lucifer and I will look into his family, his co-workers, see if we come up with any likely suspects.”

Lucifer made a face. “Fine,” he said. “We can do the boring bit.”

* * *

 

“Ricky used to be married,” Chloe told Lucifer, motioning to her computer screen. “Divorce just recently went through. His ex-wife is called Maria Velasquez. She has full custody of their two children, and Ricky was only getting court-supervised visits.”

“Are you thinking the ex-wife did it?” Lucifer asked.

“There’s a reason why cops always look at the spouse first,” Chloe said. “His wife tried to push for full denial of visitation rights, but Ricky’s lawyer got him court-supervised visits. The courts don’t restrict visitation rights like this unless there’s a good reason. Maybe she was trying to protect her kids. She wouldn’t be the first.”

“People have killed for less, I suppose,” said Lucifer.

They stepped outside and climbed into her car. “Linda thinks I’m scared of children,” Lucifer said abruptly.

Chloe was reasonably certain that was an oversimplification of what Linda actually thought, but he had brought it up so she may as well bite. “Are you?”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said predictably. 

“Why do you dislike kids so much?” Chloe asked him.

“They’re just — unnerving, the way they stare at you and wail,” Lucifer said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I just don’t understand what they want.”

“Children are easy,” said Chloe. “Food, warmth, love. You’ve never asked them?”

“When would I?” he said. “No one calls up the devil when they need a babysitter. And we don’t get children in Hell.”

It was an answer to a question she hadn’t even considered, and it was an answer she was happy to get. “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. The idea of a child suffering for eternity was reprehensible, and clearly Someone agreed with her.

“And babies,” he said. “Don’t even get me started. All that wretched crying and refusing to use words.”

“Because… they can’t,” she said. He knew that, right? He was just being dramatic. He knew that babies couldn’t actually talk.

“At least they figure it out after a couple of months,” he said.

Chloe took a deep breath in an out. Eons spent in Hell, Chloe, she reminded herself. “After a couple of years, yes.”

“At least your offspring speaks in complete sentences,” he said.

“Sometimes even several at once.”

“Yes, I suppose she is tolerable,” he said. “She’s rather devious, actually; she’s good at wrangling deals. I approve. I still have to teach her how to drive, come to think of it.”

“She’s ten, she’s not old enough to learn how to drive.”

“What’s age got to do with it?” he said.

“She can start to learn after she gets her learner’s permit,” Chloe said firmly.

“Oh, driver’s licenses,” Lucifer scoffed. “She doesn’t need one of those. I don’t.”

“You don’t have a driver’s license?” she said. 

“Of course I do,” he said. “I got one by marching down to the DMV and applying for one with all my totally legitimate, not at all fake documents.”

“What happens when you get pulled — actually, no. Don’t answer that. I already know.”

“Traffic cops are easy enough to bribe,” he said blithely.

Chloe was spared having to continue the conversation because they’d arrived. A wane looking woman opened the door for them and sat them down in her living room.

“Ms. Velasquez, we need to ask you a few questions about your ex-husband,” Chloe said.

“We’re better off without him,” Maria Velasquez said. “Ricky was an angry drunk. He’d get upset over the smallest of things, start yelling, start hitting. It was mostly just at me, but… he started taking his anger out on our oldest, too. So I took the kids and got out.”

“I’m glad you did,” Chloe said.

“Any chance you returned to stab him him in the back just to make the separation final?” Lucifer said.

Maria shook her head. “I didn’t kill him. I can’t pretend I’m heartbroken over his death, but it wasn’t me who did it.”

“Have you had any contact with him recently?” said Chloe.

“Only in passing, during the court-supervised visits,” Maria said. “We never talked directly, though.”

“Maria,” said a man as he entered the room. “Do you know where those — oh, hello,” he said, looking up and stopping abruptly when he saw Chloe and Lucifer sitting on the couch.

“This is Javier,” said Maria. “Ricky’s brother.”

“I’m Detective Decker with the LAPD,” Chloe said. “This is my partner, Lucifer Morningstar. We have a few questions for Maria, and we’ll have a few questions for you as well. We didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Javier shifted on his feet. “I’ve been helping out with the kids,” he said.

“Close, are you?” said Lucifer. “Not every day you see someone spending time with their dead brother’s ex-wife.”

“Those kids are my nephews,” said Javier, frowning at Lucifer. 

“Javier’s been a real help,” said Maria. “My issues with Ricky didn’t extend to his family, thank God.”

“Can you both tell us where you were on Sunday morning between seven and eight?” Chloe asked.

“Was that when he was killed?” asked Maria, her eyes darting over to Javier.

“Where were you?” Chloe repeated.

“I was at church,” said Javier. “St. Christopher’s.”

“I was at the farmer’s market from six to eight,” Maria said. “Then I went to the restaurant. I’m a sous-chef at Casa del Sol.”

“Phenomenal Spanish and Basque cuisine,” Lucifer said. “Just killer.”

“Thanks,” Maria said, looking at him a bit skeptically. Chloe shot him a look.

“We’ll need to confirm your alibis,” she said. “In the meantime, can you think of anyone else who would have wanted Ricky dead?”

“He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular,” Maria said. “He had a temper, and it got the best of him sometimes.” She shrugged.

Javier was equally unsympathetic.

“He was my brother,” he said. “But he had his demons. He made enemies easily.”

“I can relate,” said Lucifer. “My demon and I only recently got back onto speaking terms.”

“Thank you for time,” said Chloe, before that comment could escalate. “If you think of anything, please let me know. Don’t leave town in case we need to follow up with anything.”

Later, in the car, Lucifer was skeptical.

“She’s lying about something,” he said.

“I don’t know if she is,” Chloe said. “Although she got a bit weird when she found out what time Ricky was killed.”

“She was a little bit too fine with the fact that he was stabbed to death,” he said. “I say she did it. She had motive, and she’s a right hand with a knife.”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “I don’t think she was lying. Besides, just knowing how to use a knife doesn’t mean you’re going to murder someone with one. I mean, right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s up with you?”

“Maze is babysitting Trixie tomorrow,” Chloe said, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“So?” said Lucifer. “What’s your point?”

“It’s the first time she’s done it since, you know,” Chloe said. “Am I worrying about nothing? I mean, should I be concerned about a demon looking after my daughter?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t believe I just said that. What happened to my life?”

“That’s awfully speciest of you,” he said.

“You don’t think there’s anything odd about a demon being entrusted with a ten year old?” she argued.

“Demons make great babysitters,” Lucifer said defensively. “They have lots of experience with humans screaming and crying.”

“You’re not helping,” she said.

“I thought everything was good between you two,” he said.

“Oh, I have cycles of freak outs,” she said. “Everything’s fine and then, you know, ‘why has my life turned into a Halloween party’, ‘what am I even doing here on this planet’, ‘why does the devil keep trying to mess with my lights when I keep telling him not to’ —”

“What’s the point of riding in your cruiser if we’re not going to turn on the lights and drive really, really fast?” he complained. “It’s like you’ve never seen a decent cop movie.”

“We’re not in a cop movie,” she said. “And stop distracting me from my existential crisis.”

“That’s the whole point,” he said. “You need me to distract you, otherwise you’d sit in silence and contemplate the meaning of life for hours on end, which, frankly, no one should ever do. The answer isn’t worth all the brooding.”

She sighed. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” he said. She couldn’t help but smile. “Be not afraid, mortal, and all that.”

“I should probably read the Bible at some point,” Chloe said. “Since this is apparently my life now.”

“Don’t bother,” Lucifer said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m barely in it.”

* * *

Chloe got the call from Maze the next day while she was busy sloughing through her paperwork. Javier’s alibi was a bit sketchy; the priest told her he was a regular attendee, but couldn’t remember specifically seeing him on that day. Maze’s call was a welcome relief.

“Hey Maze,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I had to take off,” came the reply. “Got a lead on a wicked bounty.”

“I thought you were looking after Trixie,” Chloe said. “Who’s watching her now?”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave her alone,” said Maze. “I know you get all antsy when she’s unsupervised. I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else, so I left her with Lucifer.”

“What?” she said. “Lucifer’s there?”

“No, I took her to Lux.”

“You took her to a nightclub?” she said, dismayed. “Maze —”

“Relax, Chloe, she’s fine,” Maze said. “It’s like four o’clock. There’s hardly anyone there. General sin and debauchery doesn’t start until nine at least.”

Chloe sighed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She hung up and immediately dialled Lucifer’s number. He picked up after the second ring.

“Detective!”

“Are you alright with Trixie there?” she said in a rush. “You don’t have to look after her. I can find someone else, or bring her back here, or —”

“Relax, Detective,” he said. “She’s not any trouble. I can amuse her for a few hours.”

“Where is she now?” Chloe asked.

“She wanted to climb one of the poles.”

“Lucifer!”

“I’m just joking,” he said. “She’s sitting on a couch, doing homework. It looks completely dull.”

“Thank you for watching her, Lucifer,” she said. “It means a lot to me.”

“I don’t really get why she needs supervision,” he said. “She seems capable of doing most things herself. Except driving, of course, but that’s easy enough to fix.”

She wasn’t going to start an argument with him about parenting, of all things, so she opted to change the topic. “Could you put Trixie on for a minute?”

There was a rustle, and then Trixie’s voice came through the other end. “Hi, mom!”

“Hey, Trix,” she said. “Are you okay staying at Lucifer’s for a few hours?”

“Yeah,” Trixie said. Her voice got quiet, letting her in on a secret. “His place is _really_ fancy.”

“It is,” she whispered back. “Don’t touch anything unless he says it’s okay, alright? And maybe remind him that you need to eat something.”

“Okay!” Trixie chirped. “Bye, mom!”

The line disconnected, and Chloe considered her options. The devil babysitting her daughter — to be honest, she’d probably had worse ideas.

* * *

Chloe stepped out of the elevator at the penthouse to the sounds of the piano — not Lucifer’s virtuoso, but childlike plinking.

“Mom!” shouted Trixie. She was sitting next to Lucifer on the piano bench, grinning. “Lucifer’s teaching me how to play!”

“Is he?” she said, smiling at the two of them sitting together. “That’s very nice.”

“Watch,” Trixie commanded. She plucked out a simple melody with her right hand.

“That’s wonderful, monkey,” she said. “Did you learn all that this afternoon?”

“Of course she did. I’m a fantastic teacher,” said Lucifer. He turned to Trixie. “Sit up straight, and don’t look at the keys. It’s never too early to start good habits.”

“But how will I know which keys to press if I don’t look at them?”

“If you practice enough, your body will remember,” he told her. “Can you still do the C Major scale?”

Trixie pulled a face but slowly and deliberately played the scale. “It’s not as much fun,” she said.

“No,” he said. “But it will train your fingers so that when you want to play something more _fun_ —” he demonstrated with a flourish “— you can do it without looking.”

Trixie tapped out the scale once more, even slower this time, but resolutely not looking down at her hands.

“Very good,” said Lucifer. He looked up at Chloe. “I’ll make a pianist of her yet,” he said.

“Can I come here sometimes to practice?” Trixie asked her. “Please?”

“You’re welcome, of course,” said Lucifer before she had a chance to say anything. “But you should really have your own instrument.”

“I think the apartment is a bit small for a piano,” said Chloe.

“For a proper grand, yes,” he said. “But we could get a suitable upright that would fit your space requirements.”

“Maybe we could start off with a keyboard,” she said. There was every possibility that Trixie would abandon her piano-playing aspirations in a few days or a few weeks.

Lucifer’s scoff told her what he thought of that suggestion, and she suspected that one day soon she would come home from work to find a piano in the living room if she didn’t head him off.

“Hey, babe, we gotta go,” she said. “It’s a school night. Where are your things?”

Trixie slid off the piano bench and raced off to find her bag.

“Thanks for looking after her,” she told Lucifer. “But please do not buy her a piano.”

“Oh, she’s quite charming,” he said, ignoring the rest.

“Sounds like you two had fun,” she said. “What deal did she strike to get you to teach her how to play?”

“No deal,” said Lucifer. “She expressed a desire to learn how to play, and I… obliged.”

He looked a little surprised at himself. “Thank you,” she said. Here was the devil, notorious for his deals and favours, teaching a girl to play piano without any expectation of receiving anything in return.

Trixie raced around the corner. “I’m ready!” she announced.

Chloe cleared her throat. “I gotta go,” she said softly.

Lucifer’s eyes were dark, his pupils wide. “Yes, of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“I look forward to it,” he said.

Once she and Trixie were down in the car and safely buckled in, she started the car. “Did you have fun with Lucifer?”

“Yeah!” Trixie enthused. “He let me swim in the pool and helped me with my math homework. Can he babysit me again tomorrow?”

“He helped you with your homework?” she said. She wished she could have taken a picture of _that_.

“He says fractions are easy to understand if you think about them with food,” Trixie said. “So we made chocolate cake _and_ chocolate icing and doubled the recipe.” She pulled a glass container out of her bag. “We ate most of it for dinner, but I saved some for you.”

“Did you have anything else for dinner?” she asked. “Or just cake?”

“Just cake!” said Trixie gleefully. “Lucifer says that cake has flour and eggs, which are the same ingredients as pasta, so it’s basically like we had spaghetti.”

“Of course he did,” Chloe said, shaking her head but smiling fondly. “I’m glad you had fun, monkey.”

* * *

“Yeah, she was here,” said the honey stand guy at the farmer’s market, squinting and tapping the photo of Maria Velasquez decisively. “Maria comes the same time every week. Like clockwork.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, taking back the photo and stepping back to speak quietly with her partner. “So she was here.”

“Maybe the killer also knew she’d be here,” said Lucifer.

She blinked. “You think whoever killed Ricky did it when they knew his ex-wife would have an alibi?”

“She could have contracted it out,” he said. “She wouldn’t be the first person to have someone else do her dirty work for her.”

“But to do it all as a preemptive measure against something maybe happening in the future?” said Chloe. “I sympathize with her situation. I do. But this wasn’t a woman in immediate danger. She had a divorce, sole custody of her kids, and her ex-husband couldn’t see them without court supervision. It seems a little excessive to have him killed just because he might be a danger to her at some point.”

“There are stranger motives to commit murder,” Lucifer said.

“We’ll have to talk to her again,” she said.

They went to Maria’s house, but it was empty. She wasn’t at the restaurant, and her phone went unanswered.

“Dammit!” Chloe said, smacking the car. It didn’t accomplish anything except making her hand smart.

“It could be nothing,” said Lucifer. “People drop off the grid for a day all the time.”

“Not when they’re murder suspects, they don’t,” she said. “Let’s look at the file back at my apartment. Maybe there’s a connection we missed. I’ll put out a BOLO for her.”

Chloe’s phone rang as they walked through her front door; it was Ella on the other end of the line. She put it on speaker.

“I managed to pull some DNA from the gloves and probably belongs to our killer,” Ella said. “The bad news is that it didn’t turn up anything in the system. The good news is that when I compared it to the victim’s DNA, it came up with a familial match. Did any of Ricky’s siblings strike you as particularly murderous?”

“A sibling?” said Chloe. She looked up at Lucifer, startled. “There is someone who might fit that description. Thanks, Ella.”

“Well, well, well,” said Lucifer. “Looks like Javier engaged in a little fratricide.”

“He killed his own brother,” Chloe said. “What would drive him to do something like that?”

Lucifer reeled back as if slapped. “He was protecting her,” he said. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“Of course he had a choice,” she said. “You’re the one who’s always saying that. I’m surprised I have to say it to you. What are you, on his side now or something? We have to bring him in.”

“So he’s a monster, is that it?” Lucifer said. “He killed his brother, and that’s it, guilty forever, is he?”

“Whoa!” said Chloe, holding up her hands in surrender. This conversation had taken a sharp left turn. “I didn’t say that, so don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

“I’ve done the same for you!” Lucifer said. “I’ve killed for you, I’ve died for you —”

“Wait, wait, stop,” she said. He fell silent, standing tall and fierce in the middle of her living house. “You said you’ve done the same for me. Not that you _would_ , but that you _have_.”

“I —” he stopped for a moment, then carried on, determined. “Malcolm shot me, in that warehouse, do you remember? I didn’t just get hurt; I died. And I made a deal with Dad, to keep you safe, and He sent me back.”

How could she forget the sickening crack of the gun, the absolute certainty she felt that Lucifer had been killed, only for him to return miraculously unscathed? And the truth was that his Father had patched him up and sent him back? That alone was a lot to take in, but Lucifer kept going.

“I was supposed to send Mum back to Hell in returm, but I didn’t, so Uriel — my brother — he came — your car accident, Detective. He made that happen to remind me to hold up my end of the deal. But he was crazy. He was going to kill you, he was going to kill Mum. So I did what I had to do.”

Chloe’s head was spinning. She reached out to grasp his hands, as if she could stem the flood coming from him, but he pulled away from me.

“He’d brought a weapon to Earth, capable of wiping out souls from existence. He was going to use it on Mum, so I had to stop him, I had to —”

“Lucifer,” she said. His eyes were wild.

“I didn’t just kill him, I wiped him out of creation,” he said. “He gave me no choice. Who knows what havoc he’d have wreaked.”

The image of Lucifer, a wreck, standing in the line of a sniper. _Shoot me_ , he’d said.

“I almost got trapped in Hell because of it,” he continued. “I had to go back there, of course, because of the professor.”

“The professor?” she said.

“Professor Carlisle,” he said. “The deranged scientist with a point to prove. He poisoned you. He made a big deal about how the formula for the antidote only existed in his head, but you needed it, so I went down to Hell and got it out of him. I had to kill myself and get Linda to bring me back.”

They’d thought that getting that formula was impossible — and it had been, for everyone except for the devil hell-bent on keeping her safe.

“It was the only way to save you,” he said. “I didn’t have my wings and Amenadiel didn’t have his. I needed to die so I could get the formula for you. But then I went through one of the doors and Uriel was there, in my own Hell-loop, and I just killed him over and over and over —”

“Lucifer, stop,” she said, taking hold of his hands at last.

“But I got out,” he told her. “You can leave Hell when you stop feeling guilty, and I remembered why I’d done it in the first place. I did it to protect you.” His entire demeanour slumped, as if a giant weight had been lifted from him, and then he straightened again and looked her in the eye. “So that’s why someone would kill their own brother.”

He tried to pull his hands away, every line of his body tight and poised to flee, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t leave,” she told him. “Don’t run away.”

She pulled him into an embrace. He was hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure. He slowly melted against her.

“I’m so sorry about your brother,” she whispered.

“He was going to kill you,” Lucifer repeated.

“And you saved me,” she said. 

She couldn’t say how long they stood together, and she found she didn’t care. She could exist in this moment, in this mutual exchange of comfort.

“This is a lot to take in,” she said. “But please don’t literally kill yourself to save me.”

“I’d do it again,” he said against her neck. “If I had to make the same choice — I’d do it again.”

“What about me?” she said. “What happens to me if you die? You’re just gone and I never get to see you again?”

He was silent, and she knew she was right.

“Come on,” he said, abruptly pulling away and not meeting her eyes. He strode towards the door. “We have a killer to track down.”

She let him have it, let him pull away. There would be time.

* * *

“LAPD!” Chloe yelled. “Freeze!”

Javier darted to the side, so she went for the full body tackle and carried him down to the ground. His fist caught Chloe across her cheek and the momentum threw her off him, sending her gun clattering to the pavement.

He scrabbled to his feet, and picked up her gun where it had fallen to the ground, pointing it at her as she slowly climbed to her feet, hands in the air. He stepped back, putting distance between them so she couldn’t make a grab for the gun, but still entirely within lethal range.

“Okay, Javier,” she said as calmly as she could with her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. “Just put down the gun.”

“I am not going to jail!” he said, jabbing the gun at her to emphasize his point.

“Right now you’re in control of that,” she said. “We just want to figure out what happened with Ricky’s death. But if you shoot me, I can’t help you tell your side of the story.”

“Ricky got what he deserved!” he said. Fear had twisted his features into something ugly. “Nobody will listen to me! Especially not some blonde cop bitch.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” came Lucifer’s voice. He loomed out of the shadows, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“Man, stay back!” said Javier. “I will shoot her!” He stepped back, but kept his eyes and gun trained on Chloe.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Lucifer.

“Javier,” said Chloe, trying to draw his focus to her so he didn’t do anything rash. “I understand, okay? You were just trying to protect Maria and her kids. You did what you thought was right. I want to help you. But to do that, we need to go down to the station together.”

Javier squeezed the trigger. She flinched and ducked as the shot rang out; a bullet imbedded itself in the brick a few inches from her head. She was wearing a vest, but that wouldn’t protect her if he was going for head shots.

“Detective!” Lucifer called out, his voice tight.

“I’m okay,” she called back.

“I told you to stay back!” Javier screamed at Lucifer.

“And I told you not to shoot her!” Lucifer said. His gaze flicked between the gun and Chloe; he seemed hesitant to move forward while the gun was still trained on her. “I don’t like it when people shoot her. You’re lucky that bullet missed, otherwise you’d be sidewalk art right now.”

“You don’t even have a gun, man,” Javier sneered.

“Lucifer, it’s okay,” Chloe said. “I’m okay.”

“Detective, he’s trying to kill you,” Lucifer said. “That is unacceptable. Do you know what I did to the last miserable sack of skin who tried to kill her?” he said to Javier.

“Get away from me!” he said.

“I killed him,” Lucifer continued. “Angels aren’t allowed to kill humans, of course, but once you’ve killed one, really, what’s another one to add to the pile? Dad didn’t care about the other one, so why should He care about you?”

“Lucifer, stop,” said Chloe. This was all going to go south any moment; she had to get the gun away from Javier.

She lunged forward just as Lucifer’s face changed; it was a flash, just a moment of red eyes and charred flesh, not the extended view she’d been witness to before. It was still a shock, enough to stop her in her tracks and leave her breathless. Javier squeezed the trigger again reflexively; Chloe ducked, but his shot went wide. She heard a crunch, and a scream, and raised her head to see Javier on his knees, his arm clearly broken in Lucifer’s grip, her gun on the ground at his feet.

“No, no, no,” he was moaning. “I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t do it again —”

Lucifer loomed over the man. Chloe crossed the distance between them and reached out to grasp his arm. “It’s okay,” she said.

He turned towards her, still full of fury and hellfire. His eyes were a burning red. She grasped his hand. “I’m fine,” she said. “Look at me. I’m okay. You can let him go. We got him.”

Lucifer let out a breath, and the menace seemed to melt away. His eyes darkened back to his usual brown colour. He nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Javier to slide all the way to the ground and cradle his mangled arm. 

Chloe pulled out her phone to call for an ambulance, Lucifer pressed close to her. Her cheek was aching and her ears were ringing from the shots, but she was alive. He was alive. Everything else would just have to slot into place later.

* * *

Lucifer flitted around her like a mother hen.

“Do you need more ice?” he asked. “I think you need more.” He eyed the cloth bag skeptically. They were back in her apartment, and Chloe was beyond ready to climb into bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Lucifer, I’m fine,” she told him. “Really. A couple of bruises. That’s it.” She accepted the glass of water he handed to her.

“You shouldn’t have any bruises at all,” he said. “I’m going to come out of retirement when that pathetic sack of skin dies. I should go to the hospital now and snap all the bones in his fingers.”

“You’re not going to do any of that,” she said firmly. “Because I’m _fine_. I’m just going to go to sleep.” She put the water on her beside table and eased under the covers.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “Sleep is crucial for the healing process.” He fluffed up her pillows unnecessarily, and then lingered, watching her.

Chloe patted the bed beside her. “Stay with me tonight?” she said.

He made a face. “Detective, I’m not having sex with you while you’re in this condition,” he said.

“No sex,” she said. A few months ago, she might have laughed, might have shook her head or rolled her eyes at him; she couldn’t now, not when she knew the truth, knew it was likely that no one had ever just slept beside him without the expectation of sex. “Just hold me?”

He still looked uncertain, but he stripped down to his underwear and climbed in beside her. He reached out to her tentatively and she closed the distance between them, pressing against his side and laying her head against his chest. His arms slowly circled her, squeezing her gently before relaxing. 

He radiated warmth; she hummed, soaking in the sensation and closing her eyes. One of his hands reached up and began to gently stroke her hair. It was entirely possible that she’d never been so comfortable in her life.

“I have no talent for healing,” he said. There was the barest touch of his fingertips against her cheekbone, where the skin was hot and swollen, and then his hand moved back to her hair. “So I demand you renounce death and live forever.”

She couldn’t help but to draw patterns on his arm: circular, repetitive movements that hopefully brought him comfort. “I’m right here. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not today,” he said. “What about in thirty years? Forty? Fifty?”

He was immortal, and he had existed since the beginning of time. Whatever chunk of time she would be alive for, no matter how long it was for her, for him it would be gone in the blink of an eye. And then what would become of him?

“I don’t have an answer for what you’re asking,” she said. “Maybe I’ll go to Hell,” she added, trying to be light. “I could keep you company.”

His grip tightened around her and he drew her in even closer. “ _Don’t_ ,” he said, his voice raw. “Don’t even — don’t joke about that. The thought of you down there — even for an instant — don’t make me imagine —”

“Okay,” she soothed, stroking along his side. “I’m sorry. I won’t go there. I promise.”

“You don’t belong there,” he told her. “You belong at peace, in the light of the Silver City.”

The Silver City — Heaven, where Lucifer would not be able to follow her, would never be able to see her again. If God really had put her in Lucifer’s path, was this his intention? To give him something good for a few years, and then hold it out of his reach for the rest of time? Lucifer seemed determined to assign the worst of intentions to his Father, but Chloe just couldn’t imagine the purpose of being so pointlessly cruel. 

Which meant that maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe the gates of Heaven weren’t closed for him after all.

“Maybe you can visit me,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, just began to move his thumb in small circles against her hip. She didn’t push it; she had no way to know if this little thought was true, and unless God was feeling up to a chat, neither of them would find out anytime soon.

But in the foreseeable future — they had time. Why shouldn’t they make the most of it?

She pulled back slightly so she could look at him properly. “We’ve been ignoring this thing between us,” she said.

“You needed time,” he said, echoing what she had said, in his penthouse, months ago, when the revelation of his true identity was still new and overwhelming.

“I did,” she whispered. She touched his face, and he closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her hand. “But I’ve always known who you are. And even knowing everything, none of it changes how I feel about you.”

He looked as though she had struck him. “I —” he started, and then stopped. He buried his head briefly against her shoulder, raising it up again to look at her. “You are indescribable,” he said.

He kissed her then, so gently, so softly her heart ached.

“I’m exhausted,” she whispered. “But we’ll talk? You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“I’ll be here,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“An omelette?” she said groggily, her eyes sliding shut.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “An omelette,” he agreed.


End file.
